


Content

by nosleeptilwinterfell



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosleeptilwinterfell/pseuds/nosleeptilwinterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contentedness is not in Thomas Barrow's nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Content

**Author's Note:**

> Some introspection and some Thommy shmoop. I have no excuse.

Thomas Barrow didn’t consider himself a naturally content person. Of course, good things rarely came his way to be content with. And that which he had, he had earned- even if his methods were not always strictly ethical.

He was not Bates, always oozing gratitude for what he had been given. Thomas was sure that many on the Downton staff who knew of his preferences thought that Thomas ought to have been honored to have kept his job, thrilled not to have been kicked to the curb or arrested for who he was.

But Thomas wanted more. He always did. As a man who loved other men, he would never have what so many others took for granted. None of the others had to plan and scheme the way he did. They never even had to think about it. Thomas didn’t think that being bitter about that was such a crime. So he was audacious enough to think that perhaps not being fired or arrested was really only the bare minimum of what he ought to have. He refused to be grateful for not having to cower. And he would not fawn over the scraps of tolerance he was given, would not bow and scrape for what ought to already be his.

In some ways, his constant dissatisfaction was a gift, a talent, even. It had provided him with the grit and ingenuity to fight tooth and nail to get him where he was. He rather thought contentedness was one step away from complacency.

And you would never catch Thomas Barrow complacent.

Although there was one matter where managing to be content would save him a lot of grief. Longing was useless, and he had received so much more than he had expected- perhaps more than he deserved. But when it came to Jimmy, every gesture, every spoken word was an abundance.

So Thomas tried not to pine. He schooled himself well in not letting the severity of his concern show when Jimmy seemed tired or under stress. And Thomas disciplined himself even more strictly in containing the joy that he derived from his camaraderie with Jimmy over cards, over half-days spent together. In Jimmy’s company, he was a man in control.

But when Thomas did not fall into bed exhausted from his endless duties as under-butler and had time to, God forbid, take stock of himself (a badly advised venture indeed), his mind always returned to Jimmy. In the privacy of his room, he was free to surrender to his worries (was Jimmy getting enough sleep- had he been more subdued than usual since the anniversary of his father’s death?)

He was also free to savor the moments with Jimmy that delighted him. A good joke shared, a friendly glance, the air of ease Jimmy had about him these days…all these things lit Thomas up like a paper lantern on a dark night.

And the more he learned about Jimmy, the more every detail of Jimmy’s manner filled Thomas with an infinite tenderness he scarcely knew he possessed. Had he held this capacity his whole life, or did Jimmy cause it? Thomas didn’t know.

He adored Jimmy’s wit, his musicality, and his spirit. In the occasional moments where something personal was revealed, he found himself listening to Jimmy with a singular focus. Thomas lingered over the shape of Jimmy’s hands, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. He loved the way Jimmy’s voice grew low and husky whenever he made a particularly wicked comment intended only for Thomas’s ears. When they had to scoot past one another, Jimmy’s scent made something deep and visceral in him ache.

And if he himself was lonely, Jimmy was happy. That was a bargain Thomas was willing to make. He would not yearn. He would be content, even if it killed him.

But it seemed that Jimmy wasn’t quite content either, for one day, as they were taking a walk together, Jimmy pushed Thomas into the woods, drew Thomas’s body close to his, and kissed his mouth.

When Jimmy drew back, Thomas found his mind curiously blank and his heart beating double-time in his chest. Jimmy was wearing his cap, and their chests were touching, and Jimmy’s arms were still around him. For once, Thomas was not scheming or dreaming or aching. Jimmy’s lips were red from kissing, and he was smiling.

Then Jimmy’s hands were on Thomas’s neck, drawing him back in, and for a moment Thomas Barrow was utterly and perfectly content.


End file.
